


Drabble Night at the Foundry

by LadyChi



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyChi/pseuds/LadyChi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles from prompts. Marked as complete but I may go back from time to time and dump any Arrow drabbles here!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt by "makepatronusesnothorcruxes" on Tumblr: Felicity wears the Hood.

I. The first time she wears it, it’s because she’s going into shock. Of course, a bomb exploded within twenty feet of anyone would send them into shock. Oliver wraps her in it just before he has to disappear because the police and the ambulances are on their way. The police confiscate it as evidence. Oliver doesn’t even pout.

II. The second time she wears it, it’s because it’s cold. Oliver only raises an eyebrow when he walks in the Foundry and she has it wrapped around her shoulders. But he does walk back up the stairs and adjust the thermostat.

III. The third time she wears it, it’s because she’s a decoy. Oliver nearly has a fit but she’s wearing one, and Diggle’s wearing one, and Roy is wearing one. Oliver’s hands are shaking when he takes it off her at the end of the night. No one got hurt. He’s relieved. He’s also insistent that this will never happen again, ever. 

IV. The fourth time she wears it, it’s to a fetish costume party. Her “Slutty Arrow” costume is a big hit. Oliver bursting through the window to take out a corrupt club owner is less so.

V. The fifth time she wears it, it’s after a long day. And a long night. And a bullet wound in Oliver’s side and taking Diggle to the hospital. She takes it off of Oliver’s shoulders and wraps it around her own, until Oliver himself wraps his arms around her and holds on to her tight and promises her that tomorrow will be better.

— 

VI. The sixth time she wears it — she’s wearing nothing else. And well, you know how that ended.


	2. Felicity Does Not Like Jeans!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by madhattermatters! After a long day of wearing uncomfortable jeans, Felicity accidentally blurts out that she hates wearing pants (in front of Oliver), so he decides to take them off her.

Felicity shifted in her seat, her heels long-since abandoned underneath of her desk. She reached for the ceiling, released a breath, and then refocused. Everything about her outfit was uncomfortable after fourteen hours of wearing it. The jeans which had seemed just the right amount of clingy were now digging into her skin. Felicity longed to unbutton them, slide them down her legs and slip into something with elastic. 

 

"You okay, Felicity?" Oliver asked.

 

"I’m almost done," Felicity said. "Just a few more minutes and I should be able to have an answer for you." 

 

But seriously, it would be so much easier to do this pantsless.

 

"I don’t think anyone here would object. And by anyone, I mean me, since I’m the only one here," Oliver said.

 

"Wait. What? Did I say that out loud?" 

 

"You might have." Oliver crossed the room and laid her ponytail to the other side of her neck so he could kiss it, his breath hot on her skin. "Felicity… you look delicious today." 

 

"No. We are not doing this in the foundry," Felicity said, trying to sound mature and firm about it. "I just got used to doing this with you in, you know… a  _bed_.” 

 

Oliver coaxed her up, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Please. I want to test out how strong this desk is.” 

 

Felicity shivered. “Oliver, I thought you wanted…”

 

"You. I want you. And I want you now." His clever fingers found the button to her jeans and with a flick, they were loosened. Slowly, he worked the zipper down, kissing her neck over and over again. "Please, Felicity." 

 

Felicity pretend to sigh, like she was very put upon, while Oliver worked her jeans down her thighs. “I suppose, since you asked so nicely.” 


	3. Queen Family Carnival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by mslunamoon: Felicity white t-shirt + Oliver + Raining.

As part of an initiative to remake the image of Queen Consolidated, the Queen family is sponsoring a carnival for the children at the children’s hospital just outside of the Glades. Felicity worked overtime getting ready for it — not that she had much free time to begin with, but Oliver had been really passionate about the project, so she came in early and worked with him long after the Arrow had hung up his hood until the bright light of morning. 

 

The day of the festival dawned bright, but cloudy. Felicity looked up at the sky on her way to work. Because they were going to spend the majority of the day at a carnival, she’d worn sneakers, jeans, and a t-shirt with a tasteful Queen Consolidated logo. 

 

For hours, she and Oliver walked around, playing games, fetching stuffed animals, taking pictures and giving out hugs. Then the carnival was over and it was time to start the clean-up. Oliver helped load things into trucks, and Felicity found a broom.

 

They, and the hundred and fifty Queen Consolidated volunteers who had shown up to help, were nearly done when the sky suddenly rumbled and thunder cracked, and the raindrops fell.

 

Felicity let out a laugh and lifted her face to the sky. “Thanks for holding out, pal!” she called out, and the people around her laughed, expressing the same sentiment. She didn’t mind the rain while she was sweaty and gross, knowing that it would wash away some of the grime.

 

But then she looked at Oliver. He’d frozen for just a minute, but then looked over at her and grinned. 

 

By the time they were done, her shirt was soaked through, the edges of her bra clearly showing. Oliver wrapped her in his arms as they left the parking lot the carnival had been in. His shirt was soaked through, too, and Felicity shook her head. 

 

"Digg is going to kill us if we get your car all wet," she said.

 

But Oliver wasn’t thinking about Digg. He pushed her up against the car and covered her mouth with his. Felicity was shocked, but then… she realized.  _Oliver was kissing her_. 

 

She gave it all she had, and barely noticed when Oliver’s hands slipped under the soaked-through tee to caress the bare skin there. 

 

"Oliver. Felicity." Diggle’s voice was pained. "Really, now? In front of God and everybody?" 

 

Felicity flushed and ducked her head. 

 

"Give us a second please, Diggle," Oliver said. And then, without waiting for a response, he lifted Felicity’s chin and kissed her softly again. "Thank you, Felicity. I — I know this wouldn’t have been possible without you." 

 

"That’s not normally how you say thank you," Felicity stammered. 

 

"I’m starting a new tradition," Oliver said, and he winked at her as he opened the car door and watched her slide in. 


	4. Strip Poker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt by madhattermatters! "Strip Poker"

"The game is texas hold ‘em," Felicity says, bridging the deck of cards. "You lose a hand, you lose an article of clothing." 

 

"I understand how Strip Poker works, Felicity," Oliver says patiently. 

 

"And you’re sure you want to do this," Felicity says. 

 

"Felicity — I’m not exactly proud of lying to my family and getting away with it everyday but… I do lie. To my family. Every day. And I get away with it." 

 

"Fascinating," Felicity says. "Because I’ve always found I can read you like a book."

 

"I very much doubt  _that_ ,” Oliver says, just slightly snootily. 

 

It starts out good for Oliver — Felicity lets down her hair one hand, and then loses a shoe the next. Then Felicity has a run of what has to be luck — Oliver loses his shoes, and his belt and his watch and his tie back to back. Then Felicity loses the other shoe and her earrings. Then Oliver has to surrender his dress shirt. He can clearly read the interest in Felicity’s eyes and thinks he might be able to use that.

 

He’s wrong. It’s like a switch has gone off in her head. If she was being kind to him before, she’s ruthless now. He loses his undershirt and his dress pants. He’s down to his boxer shorts. And it’s his turn to deal. 

 

When the river comes out, Felicity licks her lips and looks at him with bedroom eyes. There’s no way he can hide from her how that affects him. Her eyes travel down his body deliberately.

 

"I feel like you’re objectifying me." Oliver says, teasing her. 

 

"I’m just enjoying my prize." Felicity lays her cards down. "Flush. Aces full of Kings." 

 

Oliver drops his boxers. But he wouldn’t say he was the loser that night.


	5. The Angsty Tahiti One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by mullerette on Tumblr: Oliver finally takes Felicity to the Caymans (or Tahiti).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry about this one. I really am.

When the tests came back positive, Oliver had taken her hand and said, “We are going to make it through this, I swear to God, Felicity.”

 

It was six months of treatment. Six months of misery, of the chemo making her feel worse than the breast cancer ever did. Of throwing up everything she ate, losing all of her hair, and rocking every shade of scarf that Oliver could find for her. Six months of her mother-in-law showing up when Oliver couldn’t, six months of Thea sitting next to her while the chemo slid through her veins, talking about fashion to ignore how crappy she felt. 

 

Magazines wrote articles about the sensitive side of the Queen Consolidated CEO, taking time out from his demanding career to be with his poor, sick wife — articles that set Oliver’s teeth on edge — “you’re my  _wife_ , Felicity. I’m not a saint because I like spending time with you” — and hers — because they always mentioned how terribly  _brave_  she was. “What do they want? Crying and screaming in public?” 

 

Six months — and then they were done. They left the doctor’s office, test results in hand. Felicity was shaking with relief and she didn’t notice that they weren’t headed home for the longest time. 

 

When Oliver whisked her onto his plane she demanded to know where they were going, but he wouldn’t tell. 

 

She had her first alcoholic drink in a while on a beach, in a hammock, wrapped in Oliver’s arms as the sun set over Tahiti. 

 

"I know you don’t want to hear it but… Felicity?" Oliver stroked her arm. "You’re my hero. And I don’t ever, ever want to lose you. Ever. The last six months about destroyed me." 

 

"Ssssh," Felicity said, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of the hammock rocking back and forth. "No cancer thoughts when the sky is this beautiful." 

 

"No cancer thoughts ever again." 

 

"I can drink to that." 


	6. The Best Big Brother in the World

Hospitals,7-year-old Oliver decided, were the worst. They smelled bad and you had to be quiet and people always rushed around, like they were so important and had a million things to do. And he’d forgotten his Gameboy at home so all he could do was watch the lame television with stupid Wheel of Fortune on it. 

"Are you excited?" Everyone kept asking him. He answered yes, because he’d learned that’s what was expected of him. But he wasn’t sure how he felt. He knew his Mom had been uncomfortable and tired — too tired to deal with him, so he’d spent more time than usual with the nanny, and from what he could see from his friends that had little brothers and sisters, that wasn’t going to change much. 

On the other hand — maybe it would be cool. Maybe he’d luck out and have a cool sister. That liked frogs and jumping out of trees and didn’t like boring or stupid things, like ponies and princesses. 

Suddenly, a nurse came through the doorway into the waiting room. “Ms. Raisa?” 

"Yes?" His nanny answered. 

"Oliver’s mother wants to know if he would like to meet the baby." 

All eyes turned to him. Oliver brushed his hands on his pants and rose to his feet. “Sure,” he said, trying to mask the doubt he was feeling. But Raisa knew. She always knew. 

"If you want to wait, Mr. Oliver…."

"Nah. Got to meet her sometime," Oliver said. And he followed the nurse back through the hallway to a room where his mother was — covered up to her neck with a blanket, staring at his father, who was holding a pink bundle that squirmed.

That must be the baby. 

He straightened his shoulders and marched in the room. “Hi.”

"Ssssh, Oliver, not so loud please, darling," his mother said. "The baby’s trying to sleep." 

"Okay." He stuck his hands in his pockets. 

"Do you want to see her?" his father asked. 

"Sure, I guess." Oliver walked across the room. His father pulled back the blanket. Oliver was expecting… well, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this little alien thing that didn’t look much like a baby. "What did you do to her head?" 

"She’s just a little smooshed right now. She’ll straighten out. Just like you did," his father said. "Do you want to hold her?"

"Robert… I’m not so sure…" 

"Moira, let the boy hold his sister." 

Oliver looked over at his mother. She shrugged as if to say ‘oh all right’, so he soon found himself sat on a chair, being told to support the baby’s head, and then… there she was. 

For the first time, she opened her eyes and Oliver would swear until the day he died that she smiled at him before she closed them again — and that was it. He knew right then, that he wasn’t always the best in school. And he definitely wasn’t the best son. But he could be the best big brother in the whole wide world. And he was going to try.


	7. Felicity Injected With Truth Serum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymously prompted on Tumblr. "Everyone always does 'Oliver being injected with the truth serum' but what if it was Felicity? I picture her maybe revealing too much from her past and of course being so adorably funny! (It probably wouldn't be that different from her usual rambles except this time she cant stop) :P"

The second the needle slides into her skin, all she can think is —  _oh shit_.

 

And pretty soon that’s all she can say. “Oh shit, oh shit, this isn’t good. This is very definitely not good. I mean, I can’t keep my mouth shut when I’m  _sober_  and now you’re going to drug me?” 

 

At that moment, the wall behind her cracked, and Felicity almost cackled. “Oh, here comes my partner. You are in  _soooo_  much trouble. He really,  _really_  doesn’t like it when he finds me tied up. Well, I mean, there was that one time, but that was totally consensual. And fun. We’re thinking about experimenting with paddles next time. Well, I am. I haven’t mentioned it to him. It’s a little disturbing to be a feminist and have a spanking fetish, but your kinks are your kinks, right?” 

 

The criminal mastermind who has her pinned looks at her, stunned. “Don’t you ever shut up?” 

 

Oliver vaulted in from a hole in the wall, arrows flying in through the air in rapid succession. Felicity watched the man who had held her fall to the ground. If she hadn’t been drugged, perhaps she would have been horrified. As it it was…

 

"Nope, I never shut up. And now you’re dead. And I’m high. Whew." 

 

"Felicity, Felicity!" Oliver’s face was suddenly in front of hers. "Are you okay?" 

 

"Truth serum." 

 

"Well, that just strikes me as completely unnecessary," Diggle says, as he steps over the rubble. "Are you okay, Felicity?" 

 

"As previously stated, high. But otherwise fine. Hey, Dig, just how big around are your arms? I mean — like — are they actually the size of tree trunks? I think about that sometimes. Hey, Oliver, can you untie me? This is not the sexy kind of bondage. Speaking of, can we do that again? I mean, after I’m all.. de-traumatized from this bit. It was fun." 

 

Oliver laughs. “Felicity…”

 

"Oh, I’m embarrassing you, aren’t I? Well, you shouldn’t be embarrassed. You are very impressive in the bedroom.  _Very impressive_.” Felicity looked over at Diggle, serious-eyed. “You know how some of those gorgeous playboy men can be, Diggle, of course.”

 

"No, I can honestly say that I can’t."

 

"Well, I haven’t slept with many of them myself, but my roommate Marie in college did, and I was expecting Oliver to fall into the selfish-dick category of lovemakers, but nope. I’ve met a man who likes to eat p—"

 

"Felicity!" 

 

"Oh, look at that, I’m untied!" Felicity stood up, and then promptly lost consciousness.

 

**

 

She awoke, sometime later, in her bed, Oliver sitting next to her, tapping away on her laptop. 

 

"You’re still here, baby?" 

 

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You must feel miserable. You never call me baby when you feel well.” 

 

"Ugh, my head hurts. Not to mention I want to sink into the ground. Sorry about… ugh, everything." 

 

"Don’t be sorry," Oliver said. "I’m just glad you’re okay — and that you think I’m the best lover you’ve ever had." 

 

"Pffft," Felicity said, closing her eyes while Oliver laid down next to her. "Don’t let your ego get too big." 

 

"And we’re going to revisit this spanking thing," Oliver said. "It has… possibilities." 


	8. Felicity Is Ray Palmer's Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymously prompted on Tumblr, "Felicity as Ray Palmer's date at a gala, but wearing a dark green dress, and lots of jealous Oliver, please?"

Lord, but her dress was gorgeous. 

 

When she’d seen it on the first time, she’d nearly gasped herself. It was daring — far more daring than she would have been before, but she’d been learning new things about herself all the time this year. 

 

It was a deep emerald green that caught the light and somehow shimmered and shivered with it, dancing between green and black. The back was completely open to her tailbone, save for a strap across it in the middle. The front’s vee-neck was just sort of indecent, and the whole top of the dress was tight and unforgiving, while the bottom flared out. 

 

Her hair was sleek, beautiful waves, and she’d painted her eyelids a lighter shade of green. She’d indulged herself in fabulous black strappy heels for her feet and sparkling diamond earrings on her ears. 

 

Ray’s expression when he’d seen her had been worth it, too. His jaw had dropped, and then he’d said something witty and flirty and Felicity had felt dancing butterflies in her stomach as she laughed. 

 

This was good. This was light. This was easy. 

 

Ray Palmer could hold her hand and not worry about getting her killed. Ray Palmer could lay his hand on the small of her back and ask her if she wanted champagne without tragic consequences. Being with Ray was like taking a deep breath of fresh air.

 

Until Oliver Queen walked in the gala doors and stole it from her stomach.

 

It really wasn’t fair, what Oliver did to her system. Ray gave her butterflies. Oliver pulled at the center of her like the most powerful electromagnet. Ray made her want things, but… Oliver? Oliver made her need things. 

 

He’d made his choice, though. She could make hers. 

 

He crossed the room, something heated, but somehow sad in his eyes. “Felicity, you look… gorgeous.” 

 

"Off to steal her for a dance, Queen?" Ray asked, as he handed Felicity her champagne. 

 

"Oh no —" Felicity started at the same time Oliver said "yes". 

 

She found herself in his arms. Whirling around the ballroom under his steady guidance. His kinetic intelligence more than compensated for the fact that she often felt like a clodhopper on one foot when she tried to dance, despite years of ballet lessons. 

 

"Green, huh?" Oliver asked as he side-step-turned them past another couple. 

 

"I like the color," Felicity said evenly. "It makes me feel safe." 

 

Oliver’s eyes darted to hers, and she could almost see the shutters coming down. “Well… it’s nice. On you, I mean.” 

 

"On you, too," Felicity said softly. "Although black is also good." 

 

Oliver chuckled and looked away. “Is it always going to be this awkward between us?” 

 

"I don’t know, Oliver, are we going to be in love with each other always?" Felicity asked. "Because I don’t see how what we both said a few weeks ago, and what happened afterward…. I don’t see how that gets better without, I don’t know… a dramatic shift or something." 

 

"What do you want me to do about it?" Oliver asked, easing her into a corner. "I can’t… take back what I said. Not that I would want to. But I can’t… change my circumstances, either." 

 

"I want you," Felicity said, "to let me live my life. Let me go on a date with Ray without you whisking me away to whisper in corners. And then the minute you change your mind about this heroic sacrifice you think you’re making for my sake, I want you to let me know, so that I can quit looking for a guy I might love, and be with the one I’m in love with." 

 

She dropped his hand and walked away, shaking, but victorious. The ball was in Oliver Queen’s court now.


	9. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr conversation about Oliver and his drinking habits.

_"I’m an alcoholic. I don’t have one drink. I don’t understand people who have one drink. I don’t understand people who leave half a glass of wine on the table. I don’t understand people who say they’ve had enough. How can you have enough of feeling like this? How can you not want to feel like this longer? …My brain works differently." — Leo McGarry, "Bartlet for America", The West Wing (Aaron Sorkin)_

 

Oliver wants a drink. 

 

Everything in his life is going to crap. He craves the slow, sweet burn of something good and strong sliding down his throat. The satisfying splash of it hitting the bottom of his stomach, the soothing lack of control spreading throughout his limbs. 

 

Just once, he wants to remember what it was like to be young — fifteen, sixteen — sneaking into his parents’ liquor cabinet, because they were away again, drinking a whole bottle of gin with Tommy, falling in the pool and laughing their very drunk asses off. 

 

They should have died.

 

It wasn’t the first time. 

 

 _God,_  he wants a drink. It’s the only thing he can think about. It’s like he’s got to contain himself with two hands all the time, a vestment he can never let drop. Pain in chains around his ankles, around his hands. 

 

He can’t afford a drink. 

 

He can’t afford to mourn the end of his relationship with his mother into a bottle of vodka. He can’t afford give up control, not for one single instant. 

 

At any moment, he might have to become the Oliver he was on the island — did he ever really get to leave? he wonders sometimes — ready to kill in a heartbeat, uncaring, cold. He is determined to put two arrows into Slade Wilson, unless Slade Wilson should do the same to him first. 

 

It wouldn’t be the first time he deserved to die, after all. 

 

 _Vermouth_. Ugh, awful stuff, but there’s nothing in the world that makes his head spin quite that way. His father drank it in tumblers in the evening. Oliver was only allowed to drink with him when he’d done something particularly impressive.

 

Needless to say, it didn’t happen often.

 

His hand is twitching. He wants his bow. He wants a drink. He wants a hit of cocaine. 

 

He wants to be anywhere but here. He wants to be anyone but him. He wants…

 

The door opens. 

 

"Oliver?" 

 

He doesn’t have a sponsor. Can’t, really. 12 step programs and a belief in a higher power? Surrendering control to a Higher Power? He believed that stuff, he’d  _really_  deserve to die. 

 

But he has friends. And he has a friend who really, really likes red wine. 

 

"Hey, Felicity." He coughs. "Can I come in?" 

 

"Yeah — of course! Rough night?" She asks, stepping aside. 

 

She’s not magic. There’s nothing  _magical_  about being here. He still wants a drink. He still wants oblivion. 

 

She just reminds him that those things wouldn’t be good. That’s all. 

 

"I brought a bottle of wine." 

 

She raises her eyebrows. “You did?” 

 

"Yes." He removes it from behind his back. "Help me drink it?" 

 

"You mean, you want me to drink most of it while you very subtly nurse a glass for three hours and we talk about anything other than how massively your life sucks right now? Because I’m down for that." 

 

He wants to kiss her. 

 

"Yes, exactly like that," he says on a laugh. 

 

"Okay, then." 

 

She reaches for wine glasses, rambles about making gourmet mac and cheese to go with their wine, asks if he wants to watch a movie.

 

He nurses his glass of red wine.

 

And maintains control. 


	10. Feels Like Elizabeth Bennett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by ohmypreciousgirl on Tumblr. "Based on Stephen's interview, Oliver explaining to Felicity how he feels about her, the depth of his feelings, maybe throwing something about how he felt when he first saw/talked to her? Felicity overwhelmed about his declaration cause she didn't see it coming at all and she doesn't get it."

She feels a little bit like Elizabeth Bennet, confronted with the full force of Mr. Darcy’s feelings for the first time. She can’t help but feel as though she’s standing at the other end of a very long tunnel, and Oliver is on the other end. She can’t quite make out what he’s saying. 

 

"Felicity? Felicity?" Oh. He’s saying her name.

 

She shakes her head, closing her eyes and swallowing. “Start from the beginning. I think I’ve got like — a rock or something? In my ear. Maybe my brain.” 

 

He reaches for her, and takes her hand. “Felicity. I’d like you to go to dinner with me.” 

 

"Why?" 

 

"Excuse me?" 

 

"I mean, is this like a  _haha wouldn’t it be funny if I asked Felicity out_ thing, or…” 

 

"I’d like to go to dinner with you because — I’d like to take you on a date. Because I —" 

 

"Listen, if you feel like you owe me, or something, because of that thing with Slade, then I should —"

 

"I don’t feel like I owe you — I mean, I do, but that has nothing to do with…" Oliver expelled all the breath in his lungs. "I need to get through this, just once." 

 

"Get through what?" 

 

"Let me take you to dinner. I would like to take you to dinner because I —" Oliver swallowed. "Listen, I got back from the island and — well, you know how I was. But then I met you. And I couldn’t… I mean, I tried not to…" 

 

"Wow. Is this what’s like to listen to me?" 

 

Oliver laughed and looked up towards the sky. “Yes. I’ve said before that I think you’re remarkable. I think you’re brilliant — certainly smarter than anyone I’ve ever met before. I love that you run off at the mouth and can’t seem to help it. I love lots of things about you, Felicity, because… I love you. So please. Let me take you to dinner.” 

 

Felicity wished there was somewhere she could sit. “I’m confused.” 

 

"You are?" 

 

"I mean, I just — me? I didn’t think, I mean…" Felicity sighed. "I don’t understand where this is coming from." 

 

"My heart. Felicity, please. You’ve got to know, I’d never lie to you about something as important as this." 

 

"…You want to take me to dinner." 

 

"Yes."

 

"Because you love me." 

 

"Yes." 

 

"Okay." 

 

"Okay yes, or … just okay?" 

 

Felicity threw caution to the wind. “Okay yes. Let’s do it. Dinner. Yes.” 

 

"Are you okay? You look a little…" 

 

"Yeah, I’m going to be shell-shocked for a while, Oliver." 


	11. The One Where They're Locked in a Trunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by absentlyabbie on Tumblr!

Felicity squirmed and Oliver snapped his eyes to the ceiling, jaw clenched on a string of swears. 

 

"Felicity, rule number one of being stuck in a trunk with me is…  _stop. wiggling._ " 

 

"I’m sorry if you find my additional presence during your  _kidnapping_  to be distracting. But there’s really not much I can do about it. I think my butt is falling asleep.” 

 

"I can say with certainty that it is not because you keep rubbing it against me." Oliver bit his lip and looked up. 

 

"It’s not intentional. And you’ve got… parts… that are distracting right now, too." Felicity said. She pounded on the top of the trunk. "Let us out, you moronic douchebag!" 

 

"Does that make you feel better?" 

 

"Sort of." Felicity hissed. "Mostly it hurts my wrists." 

 

"Okay, when that trunk opens, we’ve got a very narrow window of opportunity, Felicity. They’re probably going to try and kill us, so…" 

 

The car screeched to a stop. Felicity and Oliver slammed against the back of the trunk and against each other. “What’s going on?” Felicity asked. 

 

"I have just as good an idea of that as you do," Oliver said. Outside, they could hear the sounds of a fight — screaming, pounding… Felicity’s heart raced in her chest. "Whatever it is — get ready." 

 

The trunk popped open and Oliver rolled her over, prepared to jump out and defend her but… 

 

"The Arrow," a woman said, her voice tinged with surprise. "And his trusty assistant, I see." 

 

"Diana? What are you doing here?" 

 

"Apparently," the woman said, letting Oliver climb out before she reached in to help Felicity. "Saving your ass." 

 

"Oh my God," Felicity said, her eyes wide. Diana was… beautiful. Long, raven hair, held back with a golden tiara. The most killer blue bustier she’d ever seen — and killer boots. "You’re Wonder Woman. And I have  _got_  to start wearing an outfit.” 

 

"I like the outfit you’re wearing very much," Diana said. "And here’s where we share our information, Mr. Queen. Maybe together we can track down the man we’re looking for." 


	12. We're The Only Monsters at the End of the World

Every hero has an origin story.

 

So does every villain.

 

Hers starts like this: One day, she meets Oliver Queen. He has a laptop full of bullet holes and a smile that would bring a lesser woman to her knees (it does things to her insides that cannot be described in words. A sort of twisting upheaval, a deep unsettling. Something in her recognizes something in him). He needs her help and she gives it to him.

 

And then he tells her a story of the corruption of Starling City, and how his father kept a book of all the people who failed the city, and how he uses the book to find the people he targets.

 

For six months, they’re friends. Maybe more than friends, on her end. Oliver? He’s a little messed up in the head, the kind of messed up you wait out, her Mom would say (her mom, great at advice, terrible at actually living life) and so Felicity keeps her distance though she often times can’t hide how he makes her feel.

 

And then the Glades fall. Practically on top of her. But for a stray piece of roofing keeping her safe, the collapse of Verdant would have killed her.

 

Like it killed Oliver just after he killed Malcolm. And Diggle. And Roy. And Thea.

 

The only one still alive is Moira Queen. The only one in the whole wide world she can blame for her pain.  

 

She was never John Diggle’s best student, but she can hit a target at point blank range, if she needs to. She loads the gun. She drives to the Queen house. She knocks on the door.

 

Moira lets her in, her eyes red and weepy. She lost her children, of course, but she has no one to blame but herself, Felicity says.

 

She points the gun.

 

Please, Moira begs. Please. Don’t kill me.

 

Felicity wonders what she has to live for.

 

She shoots.


End file.
